Let’s cut to the chase; this summer has an overwhelming amount of good anime. So much so that I had to make the list longer than usual! This season has promising horror stories, gag comedies, war dramas, and all flavors of romance. There’s thorny, difficult-to-discuss subject matter alongside the fluffiest fluff. There’s the return of one of the dumbest shows to ever hit the airwaves alongside explorations of gravely serious topics. There’s simply a lot of stuff. Without further ado, let’s run down the ten best anime of the Summer 2025 season, with a few honorable mentions to be extra thorough.
Honorable Mentions
Dr. Stone is a perennial honorable mention, a fun mixture of science nerd shenanigans and battle shonen flair that’s quickly approaching its final season. Do you watch Vsauce videos and enjoy characters with overpowered skills monologuing at one another? This is the anime for you.
With You and The Rain is the comfy pick of the season, one where you won’t mind that nothing happens because Fuji’s rainy days spent with her tanuki companion are sure to help you unwind. It’s cute and it’s comforting.
There’s No Freaking Way I’ll be Your Lover! Unless… is only one episode in, but it hasn’t wasted any time, skipping straight to a declaration of love. Renako is a former socially awkward girl trying her best to be more extroverted now that she’s finally made friends, but things take an unexpected turn when one of her new buddies, Mai, the most popular girl in her class, says she’s in love with her. While only time will tell if this courtship comes together, Studio Mother has already demonstrated lively animation that sells these rom-com antics.
Fourteen years after Nichijou took the crown as the funniest anime of all time (source: me), Kyoto Animation is back with a spiritual follow-up in City: The Animation. Based on a manga from the same author, Keiichi Arawi, this premiere maintained the mixture of mundanity and absurdism that made its predecessor special, even if it hasn’t quite reached the same comedic heights yet. We follow a group of oddballs living in a city (aptly named CITY), as they go about their weird little lives. The first thing worth mentioning is that, like all of Kyoto Ani’s work, this series is a visual treat, full of bright primary colors and lively animation that consistently escalates these gags about nothing through sheer visual maximalism. As for the material itself, it’s not quite as sharp as Nichijou as of yet, even if its characters—a pair of college students, two high schoolers, and a family that runs a restaurant—are quite amusing. Even if it never reaches the sky-high bar of Arawi’s previous work, it’ll be worth watching if it comes even close.
Call of the Night is back, and with it, dazzling nightscapes that make it clear why Ko sneaks out when everyone’s asleep: we’re treated to a neon purple skyline where the Milky Way is so clear and sparkling that this story must be set in an alternate universe where light pollution doesn’t exist. Oh, and there are still vampires, too. Picking up where last season left off, our central insomniac teenager, Ko, remains stuck in a tricky position where he needs to fall in love with his friend/romantic interest, Nazuna, so she can convert him into a vampire. If he doesn’t, Nazuna’s conclave of fellow bloodsuckers will kill him for discovering their secret. While some of the classic vampire age-gap weirdness is still on display in how the main character is a middle school student in a romantic entanglement with a girl who looks about his age but very much isn’t, the story mostly tiptoes around this by continuing to portray Nazuna as very immature, especially in matters of romance. Regardless, Call of the Night remains a methodically paced hangout show that happens to involve the supernatural, as its dreamy setting and incredible vibes do most of the heavy lifting: these sights make it clear why our protagonist is so dead set on disappearing into the night.
Yesterday, Netflix dropped all 12 episodes of Leviathan, which adapts a young adult novel of the same name. While it’s a bummer that studio Orange’s (Land of the Lustrous, Beastars, Trigun Stampede) latest won’t get the buzz of a weekly release, the upside is that I can actually make a definitive appraisal in these premiere lists for once: Leviathan is quite good! Tapping into a particular brand of YA war fiction, the series charts a path through an alternative telling of World War I, filled with genetically engineered creatures and mechs, while still including enough tragedy and loss to capture the pointlessness of this conflict. This strife comes across in its star-crossed protagonists from either side of the conflict, Dylan and Aleksander, who are forced to choose between friendship and perceived duty. Ultimately, the series may fall into a few somewhat predictable tropes, but its likable characters and Orange’s impressive visual execution bring this imaginative “what if” to life. [Full Review]
Gachiakuta has been set up as the big new battle shonen of the season, but isn’t exactly what you’d expect from that label through its first two episodes, focusing more on social commentary than fisticuffs. We watch as Rudo goes about his life as a member of the “tribesfolk,” a marginalized group who live in the shadow of the wealthy citizens on the other side of a massive wall. The statements here on social stratification, discrimination, and classism aren’t particularly subtle, but honestly, they don’t need to be, because the underlying anger towards these conditions is quite justified. One particularly cruel detail is that the entire slum is situated on an incline, so the gallows at the bottom are always visible—a grim reminder about where you go if you step out of line.
After Rudo is framed for a crime he didn’t commit, he ends up in The Pit, a hellscape full of trash monsters and humans who want to kill him, causing him to swear vengeance on those who sent him here. From here, the show transitions into the type of action set pieces you would expect, delivered in frenetic cuts of animation that are quite characteristic of Bones Film. Ultimately, it remains to be seen whether Gachiakuta will channel its protagonist’s anger towards something productive, or if this rage is only there for edgelord moments aimed at teenagers, but it’s probably fair to assume it will look good in the process regardless. [Full Essay]
Fifteen years later, and Panty & Stocking With Garterbelt is back without missing a beat, just as unapologetically crass, stupid, and admittedly hilarious as it was when it ended on an abrupt cliffhanger that seemed like it would leave us dangling forever. Playing like a Cartoon Network show spawned from a dare to make something that could never, ever air on the channel’s children-centric programming block, it’s a nonstop barrage of inappropriate jokes and violence that’s the exact kind of TV show your parents warned would turn your brains to mush. It’s a guilty pleasure if there ever was one.
The story follows the Anarchy sisters, Panty and Stocking (yes, those are their actual names), two fallen angels tasked with slaying ghosts to win back their spot in heaven. They take orders from a reverend, Garterbelt, a guy who, for better and worse, seems to have fallen straight out of a blaxploitation film. They are a certified pair of garbage girls who fight by transforming their corresponding undergarments into weapons, and the only thing they’re good at is indulging in their respective cardinal sins of lust and gluttony. Oh, and killing demons and cursing, they’re very good at those, too. What follows is enough f-bombs to make a TV censor cry.
In this first episode back, Studio Trigger picks up where their defunct predecessor, Gainax, left off, emulating the show’s original sense of humor and stylish animation with very dumb jokes punctuated by cool action sequences. There’s almost an Almost Sunny-like quality to how much these heroines suck while still remaining oddly likable, both so unapologetically themselves that they give a stiff middle finger to any semblance of magical girl style expectations. Is it still incredibly juvenile? Definitely. Are some of the new show’s jokes likely to go too far in a way that will justifiably alienate some of its audience, including myself? Probably, unfortunately. Does it continue to do that thing where the girls go from being depicted in an exaggerated, Powder Puff Girls-adjacent style to suddenly looking like alarmingly detailed anime girls? Also yes. Maybe most impressively, this premiere manages to convincingly resolve a decade-and-a-half-long plot twist thanks to the series’ trademark hand-waving satire, before delivering an incredible monster battle that feels like a second climax to the original series. One of the most juvenile anime of all time is back in the hands of many of its original creators, and now we have to live with the consequences.
Content Warning: This series contains extremely graphic depictions of bullying, child suicide, depression, implied child sexual abuse, and animal abuse.
To describe Takopi’s Original Sin as “a show that isn’t for everyone” is such a profound understatement that I want to reiterate if any of the words in the content warning above are triggering, you should stay as far away from this TV program as humanly possible and skip to the next blurb on this list. In a word, Takopi’s Original Sin can be vile. It’s an unflinching look at cycles of abuse and suffering, specifically those directed at children, and it walks a razor-thin line between casting a spotlight on something ugly that needs to be seen and leveraging its intense suffering for cheap, schlocky shock value. To be honest, I have no idea which side it will ultimately land on.
The story begins with a bubbly little octopus alien named Takopi crash-landing on Earth. They are from a place literally called Happy Planet, so when they meet Shizuka, a fourth grader who bears all the signs of severe depression and bullying, they have no frame of reference for what they’re seeing. While Takopi’s extreme naivety towards Shizuka’s suffering risked coming across as grating, it works in the first two episodes because by framing things from Takopi’s perspective, the narrative thoroughly undermines common, ignorant reactions to bullying: “just talk it out,” “ignore them and they’ll go away,” etc. The series goes further in its depiction of child bullying than anything else I’ve seen in two ways: the degree of violence depicted and the unflinching way it’s animated. This world is brought to life in a loose style that morphs to convey whatever mood or emotion is necessary, communicating the fear and despondency Shizuka feels when she sees her bully Marina, before jolting towards Takopi’s cheery, oblivious perspective. The switch between these modes is an intentionally jarring stab meant to jostle the viewer out of any potential indifference. It is very effective at doing that. Again, I’m not sure if Takopi’s Original Sin will ultimately justify its stomach-turning content or end up a technically impressive, but profoundly emotionally manipulative mess, but so far, I find it hard to look away from its abject misery. I’m not sure what that says about me or the rest of the show’s audience, but I imagine I’ll have a better idea by the time it’s over.
In a sea of wish-fulfillment fantasies, The Fragrant Flower Blooms with Dignity is a rare romance anime full of characters who feel like real people. The story centers on Tsumugi, a high schooler used to being shunned because of his unintentionally intimidating demeanor. That is, of course, until he meets Kaoruko, a girl who sees that he’s a nice person under his outwardly scary vibes after repeatedly visiting his family’s cake shop. Unfortunately, their relationship is complicated by circumstances out of their control: Tsumugi’s stomping grounds have a bad reputation, and Kaoruko attends an all-girls private school for the wealthy that strongly discourages fraternizing with these“delinquents” next door.
What makes it all work is the execution, and Cloverworks continues to prove itself as one of the best animation studios around when it comes to portraying the granular details of everyday life. Tsumugi’s listlessness comes across in his blank expression and humdrum attitude, with his demeanor only changing after Kaoruko gives him his first compliment in a very long time. There’s a sensitivity to how his inner life is portrayed, and hopefully, Kaoruko will eventually receive the same thoughtful treatment as the story progresses. The bad news is that while the series is already airing in Japan, Netflix has chosen to delay its worldwide release for three months for some reason. Still, the wait seems well worth it.
Everyone’s favorite ghost-busting, alien-battling team of messy teens is back, and Dandadan’s Season 2 premiere wasted no time in throwing us into the thick of it. Events picked up with our central trio still trying to get to the bottom of Jiji’s curse in a creepy old house, with the Kito family hounding them at every turn. If I had to call out one thing the series has excelled at thus far that’s also present in this episode, it’s how effortlessly it switches genres and tones: here Momo goes from hunting for a mythological creature to unleashing her telekinetic powers in a battle against a martial arts-wielding matriarch without this sequence of events seeming remotely out of the ordinary. It served as a reminder that Dandadan’s greatest strength is how it can seamlessly transition between action, comedy, horror, and romance while excelling at each. This genre-bending was once again possible because Science Saru demonstrated their ability to animate both punchy action scenes, like the previously mentioned fistfight, and more abstract weirdness as a centuries-old monster came to the fore, all of it mixed together at a breakneck pace. And thankfully, this episode also moved us past the worst part of the previous season: its mean-spirited cliffhanger that put Momo in a compromising situation for no real reason. If this premiere is anything to go on, it seems Dandadan will continue to deliver a well-balanced mash-up.
Considering that CloverWorks has repeatedly proven its place as a premier anime studio over the last few years, it says a lot that this latest episode of My Dress Up Darling is in the running for the most impressive twenty-two consecutive minutes they’ve ever animated. It begins with an extended two-minute intro in an entirely different aesthetic before switching to intimate, super technical shots that convey the closeness between our two leads, Gojo and Marin. These two, along with everyone else, move with lifelike character animation that immediately conveys their personalities, like when Marin scrunches and sways back and forth as she crushes on her favorite anime girls, or when Gojo goes dead-eyed with horror as he tries to remain respectful. Then, there’s an absurdly work-intensive sequence that simulates a camera zoom, forcing the animators to presumably redraw the entire background every frame, all done to sell a simple gag. More than just being incredibly impressive from an animation dork perspective, all of these fine details ground the world and its characters, capturing subtle details like Gojo’s increasing comfort around other people and Marin’s fangirl glee.
Oh ya, the premise. My Dress Up Darling is a will-they-won’t-they about Marin, a popular girl who loves anime, manga, and video games, and Gojo, an introverted kid who has had a hard time opening up to others, in large part because of his interest in his family’s business of crafting traditional hina dolls. The two bond over having very particular passions before Gojo begins to utilize his craftsman skills to help Marin live out her cosplay dreams. What follows is an incredibly cute romance that does a great job of highlighting Marin’s perspective as much as Gojo’s, delving into the former’s inner monologues and the latter’s insecurities towards how his hobbies don’t conform to traditional gender roles. This first episode back does an excellent job with both elements, while also at least partially toning down the camera’s male gaze-y obsession with sexualizing Marin at every opportunity: here, it feels like things are presented from Gojo’s perspective instead of a random voyeur’s. I’m sure this element will deservedly remain contentious, and I don’t blame anyone for bowing out because of it. But at the same time, the series continues to take an empathetic and accepting stance towards its leads, which is further bolstered by excellent animation.
If you wanted to emotionally torture someone, having an eldritch entity puppeteer the dead body of their romantic interest, whom they never got to confess to, would probably be a pretty good way to do it. That is more or less the premise of The Summer Hikaru Died, a horror series that combines a sweltering summer sun, body horror, and queer longing to great effect. Months after his “best friend” Hikaru returns from going missing, Yoshiki comes to a sudden realization: Hikaru never really came back. While his companion seems to have made it out, Yoshiki innately understands that something is different about him, that the person he’s been hanging out with as of late isn’t his childhood friend but something wearing his skin. He doesn’t have to wait long to confirm his theory because “Hikaru” immediately confesses the truth after being confronted. However, the complicated part is that this being shares all of his host Hikaru’s memories. Is he still Hikaru? Or is it something else?
What follows is a masterclass in psychological horror as the two settle into a genuinely bizarre relationship where moments of normalcy are suddenly punctuated by Yoshiki’s panicked realizations that his friend is dead and he’s spending time with something dangerous he doesn’t understand. And maybe the worst part is that he learns what could have been if only he had confessed his true romantic feelings: Hikaru loved him back, a romance that they never got to experience due to internalized homophobia and fear of prejudice. Yoshiki struggles with this strange limbo between grief and acceptance, as studio CygamesPictures ups the tension by focusing on the stifling details of this rural setting; crawling ants, an abandoned shrine, and… a dead body? While Yoshiki and Hikaru drift through summer, something else bubbles in the background as a band of villagers search for the thing that came from the mountain. Through its command of atmosphere and heady themes, The Summer Hikaru Died couldn’t have gotten off to a better start.
Elijah Gonzalez is an associate editor for Endless Mode. In addition to playing the latest, he also loves anime, movies, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Bluesky @elijahgonzalez.bsky.social.